


mercurial

by seraf



Series: war, illuminated [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Adoption, Angels, Bad Puns, Child Soldiers, Dubious Consent, F/F, Force Ghost(s), Innuendo, Jedi Code, M/M, Multi, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, War Crimes, and the breaking thereof, copious dick jokes, couple of heavy subjects addressed briefly here, i have. all 150 clones and 2 jedi of this company made, like. iego-brand, oc clone company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 17:43:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17750528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/seraf
Summary: a series of fics about my oc unit, the 439th flight company. i've . . . created the entire company, all the clones, the captain, the jedi and his padawan, and even things like the nose art, ship names, and two strills with the k-9 unit.the 439th is primarily a search-and-rescue group, under the command of jedi general misi, an iego angel ( trans man, he/him ), jedi commander tip aavro ( they/them ), a poisonous subvariant of nautolan from one of the moons of glee anselm, and clone captain chyth ( he/him ).





	1. Chapter 1

‘ i’m misi! ‘ he calls out, spitting his padawan braid out of his mouth and grimacing, red dust seemingly making a concentrated effort to coat every crack and plane of his face, even with the shelter they got behind the crag of rock. he yelped, swearing, as a chunk of rock was blown out suddenly by a blaster bolt over his shoulder. 

 _wish i had one of those helmets right now,_ he mused, considering one of the clones with him - there had been  _something_ shouted and orders given in the confused rush of action, and now he was … in charge of them? he supposed? 

( there’s a smug part of him somewhere deep down that’s just glad to be the one in charge for once; the braid he’s tucking behind one ear now seems to be there for the sole purpose of making  _sure_ people don’t take him seriously. )

‘ what’re your names? ‘ he asks, after they’ve dashed from this outcrop to the next, one of the faceless soldiers downed by a flash of light from one of the geonosian guns - something makes all of this seem less-than-real, the sound too  _much,_ lights and colors too  _much,_ like something in a holofilm. not real, the consequences weren’t real. 

‘ ct-819, sir. that’s ct-1190, ct-4884, ct- ‘ 

misi waves his hand, already having forgotten half the numbers. ‘ sorry, no, like - your  _names_ names. ‘

he can’t tell with the helmets, but he thinks there’s an uneasy look passed between two of them. 

ct- 819? he thinks? speaks up. ‘ we don’t have them, sir. ‘ 

misi frowns. he’d chosen  _his_ name, when the one he’d had hadn’t fit anymore. it makes it … not sit right, the tension in their bodies when 819 says that. it doesn’t feel … right. the same sort of in-your-throat nervousness he’d had trying to keep being [that dead name], when people said  _she_ or  _[that dead name]._

‘ not even nicknames or anything? ‘

another pause. 

‘ geo, ‘ one of them says eventually. ‘ i’m geo. that’s tyni, and devib, and clink. ‘

( geo makes it out. misi sees him again, months later, drafted back into the 439th, and grins, recognizing him and his name. )

the doubt comes later, the battle won. 

he was sure it would be a question more of the jedi asked, misi making sure to note differences in their force signatures or armor so he could remember which was which. but he stood there, through the meeting with the different clone commanders and captains and - 

_thank you, trooper. soldier. captain. commander. pass on the orders to trooper 2129, soldier. we honor your unit’s sacrifice, soldier._

he holds his tongue, of course. he’d just spent almost two weeks stuck on library duty, and before that, there had been three days in the creche - maybe this was what they preferred? if they really wanted to be called by their names, they’d speak up about it, right?

( later, back resting against the ‘fresher wall, he tells himself he knows damn well that’s not the case. he’d been misi  _years_ before he’d had the courage to ask. )


	2. Chapter 2

the thinly veiled accusations start coming in about three weeks after it happens.

knockout is impressed. given the senate’s usual reaction time, that’s pretty impressive for a campy little search and rescue company usually stationed somewhere in the universe’s left armpit. 

it probably would’ve blown over entirely, had the person been any less important. but knockout had no regrets. 

( natborn officers abused their power. it was a grim fact all the shinies were briefed on. sometimes in petty ways, making you do essentially chores or personal tasks for them. sometimes it was in overworking, or treating them like chattel, disposable and replaceable. sometimes it was - well. )

( halves stated that nothing had happened, but he was still flinching to the touch all this time later, and he only took sonic showers anymore. they were less comfortable, but you didn’t have to disrobe entirely to get clean. more convenient, he stated, trying his best to sound nonchalant. )

( he was seven. he had the subtlety of a gundark. )

it had been knockout he had talked to in the medbay, and knockout who had gotten the system to override, sounding off the alarms. knockout who bribed the pilots about two weeks of contraband to feign turbulence, the ship shuddering so convincingly that for a moment even he worried. 

it had been knockout who feigned concern to the nat admiral as the alarms blared, and him who helped them get to the closest escape pod - one of the better ones, clearly designed for officers. he got in it alone, shutting the door almost on knockout’s fingers. 

and it had been knockout who had put about seven charges in there a few hours before. 

the messages from the higher-ups were demanding some sort of explanation for the ‘technical malfunction’ that seemingly came out of nowhere. from their phrasing, it was clear that someone up there suspected foul play. 

‘ it was bound to happen, general, ‘ the medic says, arms crossed as misi reads it over, brow furrowed. ‘ there’s no way around this. i’ll state clear and simple what he did and plead guilty. i accepted what they’d do some time back. ‘ 

the general scanned the holopad again, chewing on his lip, before looking up, eyes calculating. ‘ there  _will_ be a way around this. we’re going to find one. and if nothing else,  _i’ll_ take the hit for it. i’m a jedi. if i state what he did, they won’t - well. it’d be better than what you’d get. ‘

a blunt truth, but an unfortunate one. 


	3. Chapter 3

**[ HOLORECORDING ARCHIVED BY AMARANTH ELSHEVA ]**

[  _image quality is poor. three or four troopers sit around the recording device._ ]

 **voice 1 [ish, squad medic]:** well … yes and no. the republic doesn’t really expect clones to even  _want_ to get married or have children, and it’s a little hard to do either under the circumstances. 

 **voice 2 [dezz, pilot]:** you’d be  _amazed_ the number of times we get asked if all of our dicks are the same size. 

 **ish:** [ _clear tone of exasperation_ ] dezz, this is going in permanent records. is this how you want to be remembered, forever? 

 **dezz:** absolutely. 

 **voice 3 [merry, flight commander]:** [  _offscreen_ ] don’t know why you thought he’d say anything  _different,_ ish. 

 **ish:** next time any of you get injured, you’re treating it yourself. anyway, as i was saying. the rules for clones are technically still a bit in the air, but there  _used_ to be … well, none. at all. like i said, it just wasn’t something they bothered to think about. 

 **voice 4 [hellion, pilot]:** only  _people_ have kids, after all. 

 **dezz:** oooof, vod. 

 **merry:** – so the reason  _we’re_ making this recording is that we were the ones to get wrung through the senate and back testing those rules. 

 **dezz:** we were out in the middle of asshole, nowhere -

 **merry:** planet didn’t have a name. think it was … xk3-49-0j1? desert planet. 

 **dezz:** so, asshole, nowhere. 

 **merry:** [ _resting his head in his hands_ ] sure, dezz. whatever shines your deecee.

 **ish:** we were doing relief work there. they were seppies, who had bowed back into the republic. the seperatists weren’t happy with that, so they tried to bomb the place. our flight platoons were sent out too meet and intercept them, while the ground platoons dodged the space battle and began putting up shields, just in case any ships or debris got through. 

 **hellion:** it didn’t. 

 **merry:** we’re good at our jobs. anyway. the seperatists scram after they realize they’ve got more resistance than they were counting on, so all of us land eventually and begin helping some with relief work - supplies and rations and so on. 

 **dezz:** by the way, desert planet doesn’t sum it up well enough. any hotter, and it would have melted straight through our  _shabla_ armor, and it was about as dry as tarkin’s wife’s dried up old - 

[  _merry smacks dezz in the back off the head, cutting him off._ ]

 **ish:** [  _with a tone of very forced calmness_ ] anyway! there was … a complicated sort of caste system we never did manage to work around that well. there was one sort of … 

 **hellion:** slave.

 **ish:** i … yes. the lowest caste was essentially a slave caste. but we didn’t know that, of course. so we’re unpacking supplies, setting up, and merry sees this kid, about yay high [  _draws a line in the air, about four feet off the ground_ ] watching him. 

 **merry:** i ended up asking what the kid wanted, and she looked like she wanted to dig a hole into the ground and die in it, but just said “nothing”. ad’ika looked like a strong breeze would knock her over, though, so i gave her a couple of ration bars, and the rest of my water canteen. kid needed it more than me. her eyes turned larger than coruscant, i swear. 

 **dezz:** awww, you big sap. 

 **ish:** so - merry does that, moves on. but then it keeps happening to vod’e - kids staring at them, getting food or water. turns out they were from that lowest caste - they would’ve been last to get any of the supplies we’d brought, if any at all. 

 **hellion:** not right. 

 **merry:** not at all. we were arguing what we could do about it almost the whole time we were there. turns out dezz here had already made a choice. [  _jerks his head in dezz’s direction._ ] 

 **dezz:** well, you know i’ve always been very …  _hands-on._ [  _wiggles the fingers of one hand demonstratively. it’s a prosthetic. merry gives him a withering glare, and he grins._ ] anyway. i end up hiding … we’ve got a lot of empty storage room the supplies had taken up, right? so i sneak as many of those kids onto the ships as i can. 

 **ish:** we might’ve found out, and i’m not sure what we might’ve done, but we got called back to coruscant early, and had to pack up and leave. so turns out - we didn’t find out until we were unloading the ships, back on the cruiser, about three-fourths of the way through hyperspace. 

 **merry:** several people weren’t pleased with this. mostly politicians. 

 **dezz:** misi was, but chyth felt like we’d put ourselves too much out in the spotlight with this - the senate was debating over this, and the leaders of the planet had contacted them, furious about it and wanting compensation for the lost labor. 

 **ish:** credit to merry for his idea, honestly. it was … more effective than i’d ever have thought. 

 **merry:** i just stated that we were following the old mandalorian traditions of adoption. they were parentless, and our allies, so we had stepped up to fill the role. 

 **ish:** there was nothing officially yet that said clones  _couldn’t_ have kids, after all.

 **hellion:** yet. 

 **merry:** they are arguing about how strict it should be, now. but … i’m not a huge fan of duchess satine, but she confirmed that both in old and new mandalorian tradition, it was a hallowed custom. so we owe her that much, at least. 

 **dezz:** for a pacifist, she sure does love having things to fight over. 

 **merry:** that’s not what that - anyway. the senate eventually grudgingly states that the kids are ours. but we don’t … really have a homeworld, or homes, or an income, so if we don’t figure that one out, they’ll get taken away from us again. 

 **ish:** someone else’s traditions saved us there. organa stepped up, saying that alderaan had a long history of humanitarian aid, especially in this war, and that he’d be happy to give the children homes until we could have more permanent ones. the senate didn’t  _like_ it, per se, but they do like things being convenient. 

 **dezz:** and dooku is secretly general ti in drag.

 **merry:** [  _rubbing his face_ ] they like things being convenient for  _them._ organa taking them meant they didn’t have to argue about this any more.   

 **ish:** so we got to go with him, to help the kids set up. they spoke … it was a kinda different kind of basic, but we’d figured each other out well enough after this long. a few of them just wouldn’t let go of us. the first one, the one merry met, was clinging to his armor like she could weigh him down enough to make him stay there. 

 **merry:** ib’zu. that was her name. [  _he laughs softly_ ] ib’zu fett, i suppose, now. she’s a smart kid, even if she’s only four-dot-five. [  _dezz elbows him._ ] or - if you’re a nat watching this, your nine. 

 **hellion:** taa’na. u’va. jait. 

 **ish:** those were your kids, right? [  _hellion nods curtly._ ] mine were ja’sei, favo, khyre, and mav’la. i ended up naming the last one - he was still just learning to walk, didn’t have a name yet. i figured … he should have one like ours. 

 **hellion:** _freedom_.

 **ish:** mhm. 

 **dezz:** i think outta all of us, i ended up with the most - a lot of them kind of followed me around, since i’d been the one to let them stow away in the first place. aisr’e, m’tana, jiphor, kee, lhu, va’na, n’sell. 

 **merry:** i had ib’zu, of course. and h’yain. i don’t think i could take care of - how many was that, dezz, seven kids? 

 **dezz:** [  _laughs, but then stops short, looking at merry._  ] are you planning on living with them, after the war? 

 **merry:** aren’t you? 

 **dezz:** definitely not. best place for ‘em is probably right where they are. i wanted to help them, sure, but that doesn’t mean i’m any good with kids. 

[  _silence for a few seconds, merry shifting some in his seat._ ] 

 **ish:** -so that’s the first case that came up in regards to the clones having children, whether biological or adopted. though … i suppose biological might be a whole different disaster to deal with. 

 **dezz:** as if there aren’t a few hundred little fetts running round the galaxy. have you  _seen_ our face? no way there haven’t been a few vod’e who - [  _he makes a crude gesture, then immediately dodges merry trying to smack him again._ ]

 **ish:** [  _takes a deep breath, pressing his hands together._ ] i think that’s a good place to end this one. thank you for listening, whoever you are.  _ret'urcye mhi._

**[ END RECORDING ]**


	4. Chapter 4

_i am one with the force and the force is with me._

not for the first time, misi wondered with … almost  _frustration_ how it was that most of the masters managed to be serene, in meditation and in action. he’s been told that the force is  _energy,_ and that is closest to how it’s always felt to him. 

but he connects, and he finds his own way to it, and he can’t sit still. crosses his legs and puts his hands on his knees as he’s been taught since he was old enough to walk, but his knees always bounce, fingers tapping, shifting where he sits. it seems like there’s supposed to be some … moment of revelation. sinking into the force, like cold water. 

the war gives him  _words_ to put to how he feels the force; like a different kind of adrenaline. he lets it rush him and moves on impulse; moves fast and thinks faster, movements or thought just - fitting together, his hands flying where he sits, his legs drawn up on the chair he sits on, fingers twitching by his sides as he goes over strategy. 

he doesn’t think it’s very jedi-like of him. especially - now, in wartime, he  _stays_ like that, stays fast and quick to react. gets branded  _impulsive, reckless, overeager, childish, not taking this seriously._

( and sometimes he is. sometimes it’s his words that fly out too fast for his brain to catch up. sometimes strategy goes  _kick [a] and it will crash into [b] and it will set off [c],_ and he’s already in motion before some common-sense part of his brain manages to inform him that landing that kick will probably break a few bones in his foot. )

it’s a difficulty, too, sometimes. his focus shifts too quickly. he finds himself looking at the same words again, then again, then again, knowing that he’s read them already, but the letters just … not sinking into his mind. 

( he can’t mind-influence people. tried to learn for a bit, gave up trying. his connection with the living force was just enough to scrape him through his preliminary tests, and was weak enough to almost cost him one of his trials. but … and he feels guilty for this, but maybe he was  _supposed_ to be fighting all along, even outside of  _this_ war. )

because he shifts to catch something, twists with the enemy or curls his hand to his chest and  _pushes,_ tossing debris six times bigger than him across the room, and the energy building in him  _soars;_ it doesn’t zig-zag in a hundred directions for once, but wires through him to a single point, or burns out in the quick dances of swords-blades-blasters-charges-shrapnel, the too-fast nature of his thinking proving  _useful_ for once. 

since the war started, he hasn’t tried to sit down and meditate even once. but … he feels as though he’s more in tune with the force than he’s ever been before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pour one out for misi, the jedi knight with off-the-walls adhd,


	5. Chapter 5

‘ i think i could understand it if it was just leaving the order, ‘ misi says. it might seem like a nonsensical conversation to an outside observer, given that the - person? he was talking to was a half-melted metal bust, riddled with blaster marks. ‘ if it had really been about the republic being corrupt, or the jedi’s views … i don’t think you’d have been totally wrong, then. ‘ 

one leg swings idly off the table ledge where he’s sitting, fingers tapping on his knees as he searches for words in the one-way conversation. ‘ it’s … i think i might be a bad jedi. ‘ he snorts. ‘ no surprise there, huh? but - we aren’t meant to be angry, or love. ‘ 

his heel thumps into the table leg, pace picking up with his seeming agitation, picking at the skin at the base of his nails. idle activity, restlessness, probably weren’t good jedi traits either. ‘ but - we’re meant to be peacekeepers, and compassionate. if my compassion stems from love, is that … wrong? and - is it wrong to be angry, given the way things  _are,_ now? ‘ 

he gestures as if the half-melted statue is watching him intently. ‘ everything’s all empty promises and debt and  _war._ we’ve got … essentially a slave army. the people in the lower levels of coruscant or in the outer republic planets can’t get food or power or clean water or anything, and we’ve  _still_ got free taa throwing four day parties to destroy a painting or some bullshit. ‘ 

jedi probably aren’t meant to have an aspirin bottle near their bed for when their teeth grind so consistently it makes their head throb painfully, or still have wrapped knuckles from a fight they shouldn’t have picked.

‘ it’s … the morality of the council’s a fucking moving target! i don’t know what they’ll consider  _right_ anymore, of what i’m doing. was this happening before the war? is  _that_ why you left? i don’t - ‘ one finger taps restlessly, clicking against the plastisteel of the table. ‘ it’s  _frustrating. ‘_

the statue, obviously, doesn’t answer, and after a second, misi snorts. 

‘ and i’m starting to lose my mind, too, i guess. talking to inanimate objects. i’ll go put you back on the firing range, huh? ‘ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> misi is talking to a bust of dooku the 439th stole from the archives and use as target practice.


	6. Chapter 6

rang used to be lye, a very sort of carefree flyboy pilot in the 212th who grinned too much and cheated in sabacc so much to the point his old unit claims that he just didn't actually know the rules anymore. there was a space battle over a planet fluctuating between republic and seppie control, with the seps slowly gaining the upper hand. lye's squadron came in as reinforcement and did what they could to ward off the vulture or hyena droids or enemy fighters so that the cruisers had a shot of escaping, or the gunships from the surface had a chance of getting back to them, but it was a giant  _mess_  of a firefight. hyena droids swarmed lye's ship, and before he could do anything, they shattered into the cockpit, and he was sucked right out into space. the republic fled the system what felt like . . . it could have been minutes or hours later, he didn't know. but they didn't bother to do a lifescan of the debris. why bother, after all? so lye was left floating alone in space.

 

pilots have pressurized suits, and enough oxygen to get them through a few days in case of . . . well, this, but it had only ever been in theory, a worst case scenario that was never supposed to happen.

 

rang spent a little bit over 3 days just floating in the debris from the battle, unable to make contact with the republic from what was now seppie space, or even really propel himself around from where he was, or get to a ship. he was a pilot, and unarmed, so he couldn't even end it quickly, rather than pulling off his helmet and wating for space to take him or floating until his oxygen ran out. a seperatist ship was actually the one to find him.

  

 

it was some diplomat, running a relief mission to the planet the republic and the seppies had torn up below them.  _heroes on both sides,_  after all. they detected what they thought was an anomaly - a lifescan blip, in space. but - they investigated, anyway, and pulled rang on board. to his surprise, they never gave him over to the droids or something like that. he was put into a cell, yes, of course he was, but he had a chance to strip out of his armor and clean himself and even offered new clothes. he actually stayed with them for awhile. they never tried to force information out of him, but he gave some to them, anyway. none that he felt like could hurt his brothers, but . . . information, anyway. some slight petty revenge against a republic that had left him for dead. 

 

some point later in time, the 439th actually captured/boarded the diplomat's ship. assuming rang was a prisoner, he was brought back on board the mercurial. he told his story to captain chyth, and there was some deliberation before they ruled that what he had done was . . . understandable. or if nothing else, he deserved a second chance. so he got new armor, tattooed himself to the point of being unrecognizable/where his face was more ink than bare skin, and cropped off his hair, and quit being a pilot altogether, joining a ground platoon instead. understandably, he didn't want to be in a fighter ever again.

 

 

he cares about his brothers, and that's it.


	7. Chapter 7

rang finds the shiny in one of the storage rooms, knees curled tight to their chest and head bowed, breath coming in ragged little pained sobs, shallow and high. their hand is clenched still around a pistol they must’ve picked up in here, knuckles white and the edges of the gun imprinted in their palm. at least their finger isn’t on the trigger. 

rang shuts the door, and sits next to them.

he isn’t … words aren’t his forte. he loves his brothers. it feels like the only thing that keeps him going, sometimes - like his body died out there in space, cold and numb, and he only exists in the warm place behind his ribs where he loves his vod’e. 

he wishes one of the better people were here to talk this kid off the ledge. chyth, or wesk, or crash. but they aren’t. he’ll have to do. 

gently, very gently, he places his hand over the shiny’s where it still clings onto the pistol ( ironically ) as if it were a lifeline. they don’t look up at him. he tries to tug it towards himself, but they’ve got a grip like beskar, and he holds back a sigh. 

‘ give me the gun, kid. ‘ 

‘ why should i? ‘ it’s said sharp and bitter, sounding like - lashing out, like a snarl. but rang knows his brothers. knows what grief sounds like in that voice, knows what  _fear_ looks like in those eyes. 

he isn’t the best person for this job. but he’s here. instead of comforting words, he shrugs once. ‘ squad just got the new medic two days ago. don’t make him have to deal with this this soon. ‘ 

they  _all_ care about their brothers, and rang sees the kid’s brows draw together, and slowly, their fingers loosen around the pistol. as rang takes it, unloading it and putting it in his belt, he sees the shiny’s lower lip quivering some. 

he doesn’t offer the invitation that many brothers would. 

but when his younger brother, still too hot off kamino to have a name, wraps their arms around his shoulders, he doesn’t push them away, either. 


	8. Chapter 8

‘ i will accept your surrender. ‘ it’s in kenobi’s polite tone; everything reasonable, the rough edges of his words sanded down with a dignified corellian accent. the kind of voice that could excuse war crimes easily enough; letting people down  _gently._ misi can feel the force nudging out at him from kenobi as well, the same rational easy force, like soothing waves lapping at the edge of his resolve.

 

_you know this is not the right choice. you are a jedi; or if nothing else, you were still raised with a jedi’s sense of honor at the heart of it all. just turn over your blade._

 

it’s a voice like the crashing of the tide, monotonous enough to almost be calming. with the force kenobi pushes out at him, misi can almost feel the muscles in his shoulders begin to unclench, his knuckles regain color around the hilt of his blade. for a second, just a second, he almost submits, lets the water take him.

 

thus is the innocuous power of the jedi, and kenobi. deflection, defense, peacemaking. until you were wading waist-deep in bodies and still refusing to accept your guilt because that could lead to anger, and that wasn’t allowed, a jedi did not harbor anger, it was all as the force willed it.

 

your brothers - no, their brothers, no - his brothers? died, and died, and died. but grief led to pain to anger to the dark side, so their deaths were marked with the same vague unease you got when your flashlight died.

 

misi breathed, closing his eyes and shuddering, gathering himself, half-dead and torn across two jedi cruisers, one of them nothing more than so much debris, caught in planetary orbit over  _who fucking cares anymore why are we fighting here what are we fighting FOR -_

 

( kenobi and skywalker had been given command of his men, while misi and tip had headed to the surface to drop supplies. when they returned, hell had broken loose, space battle more bright and confusing than coruscant’s casino district. misi reached out to his men, barely aware of his own body, standing in the gunship pulling steadily out of the atmosphere. )

 

( the living force had never been his forte. reading people and their emotions in general was hard for him whether he took the force into factor or not. some jedi can  _become_ their environments, predicting the time that metal hull will give or whether or not some beast in the felucian undergrowth will attack them, because they  _are_ the straining durasteel or the acklay stalking closer. misi has none of that talent. )

 

( but with his men, it’s  _different,_ somehow. he reaches out and it’s familiar and encompassing - he’s crash and burn, at the controls of borrowed jedi starfighters, he’s thousand and his stress about the chunk shot out of his astromech, he’s chyth on the bridge of the mercurial and virus up to his elbows in code and harpy, knuckles white on her gun-post as she aimsfiresaims at one vulture after another. )

 

( some of them can feel him, as he reconnects with them, a brief spark of greeting coming from gavri’el and tosser and forward because of what they were, and from chyth, because he - well. that was for a different reason altogether. )

 

( and misi, and the 439th, spread across cruisers and fighters and gun-posts and ship decks, thus connected, all had realized the same thing at the same time, realizing what was about to happen, as the shields failed on one of the cruisers. there was a moment of realization and of dread and of the instinctive  _protect-help-we-can-stop-this-_ )

 

( before it went up in flames. )

 

‘ will you? ‘ he asks, voice low and growled out through his teeth, like a cornered wolf, growling a warning even despite the bullet in its side. ‘  _will_ you, kenobi? ‘ he asks again, his voice raising, and he  _laughs,_ a wild rush of a thing, all madness and a brief glint of teeth, though there’s nothing but anger in his eyes, so much that his hands shake.

 

he steps closer.

 

‘ how do you know i won’t lie? surrender, and then once your guard is down, take it back and put a knife to your throat? ‘ another step forwards, the copper blade rising an inch. ‘ of course, that’s not the jedi way, is it. only a coward would stoop to that. ‘

 

his voice is deathly calm now, head tipping an inch to the side. ‘ wouldn’t you say? ‘


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to shiningjedi / stxrduste on tumblr for brider, the oc misi is sending these messages to

**[ HOLO-MESSAGE ]:** hey, bri! it’s been a couple weeks since we dropped you guys back off on coruscant. we’ve texted a couple times since, obvs, but i thought i might leave this. sometimes feels easier than typing shit out. how’s life back in the archives? 

we were called in to jabiim two days back. just got connection again after being out in seppie space. it was a karking  _mess_ there, bri - you probably read about it. reps lost pretty badly. maybe it’s selfish, but i’m glad we weren’t on the ground, there. they just called us in for extraction, helping get injured troopers outta there. 

our gunships were packed way over capacity, and we were only able to make two trips down to the surface and back. but we  _helped,_ y’know? sometimes that’s enough. 

i’ll have to send you footage, but tip’s been electrostaff training with some of the troopers, and recently they just nearly dented half-arc’s gett’se. poor guy. still, the vid’s been cheerfully passed ‘round the 439th, and even he thinks it’s pretty funny at this point. 

sorry, gotta head out soon. we’re gonna be making a jump soon, and i’m not sure how long the connection’ll last me. talk to you soon, bri. love you!

 **[ HOLO-MESSAGE ]:** do you ever worry about … i mean, i guess maybe not as much, back on triple-zero, but … do you ever worry you’re not going to be the same person as you were, on the other side of this all? i’m not even sure what i’m going to do, after all this is said and done. figured you might have some good ideas about that. any good jedi career choices you can see me following? 

not to get weird at … whatever time it is over there. 

we’ve been in hyperspace for like three days now, though, so maybe that’s just getting to me. always feels a little claustrophobic, almost. still, we’re squarely in rep space now, so i figure this might get through fine. 

how’re you doing back there? how’d things go with that guard you liked? how’s the coruscant guard, by the way? if you can get a moment, dezz has a friend over there - one of commander stone’s men. her name’s tibi. mind saying hi to her if you can? 

chyth and i managed to go on like - okay, so it wasn’t  _supposed_ to be an actual date, but we were waiting at this one place for a bounty hunter to meet up with this contact, to try and confirm a suspicion about - you know what? doesn’t matter. but we got to go to a pretty nice restaurant on the republic’s credits. 

nine hells, bri, but i like him. 

like just - listening to him talk, or the kinda wry smile he gets sometimes, or the way his eyes get soft when he thinks no one’s watching and he’s looking at some of the youngest troopers, or even - okay, not sure how to say this without sounding weird? but like - when we take sleeping shifts and he’ll be resting on me, and just - knowing he trusts me. 

 _fuck_  i’m gay. 

half-arc’s super proud of himself, because he taught m’ika to roll over recently. m’ika is also very proud of itself. i’ll send you a vid. quality stuff, really. dignified soldiers of the republic are we, laughing our asses off at his first few attempts where m’ika would only roll to its back and then wiggle around looking for belly rubs. 

if you can do anything for it - you think you can help speak out against or talk to some of the senators trying to pass that bill to cut down rations? rang’s saying they could just turn to their progen’s example and bounty-hunt in free time to make up the difference, but i’d prefer not to go to that. 

anyway. gotta go, i promised rally a cu’bikad game. see you, love you. 

* * *

 **[ HOLO-MESSAGE ]:** nine hells, i’m tired. but we just got back from quell. secura’s men are sure something, and some of the 501st pilots can really give mine a run for their money. but they’ve got more - tricks and so on. saw one pilot jump out of their gunship cockpit when a b-2 smashed it right open, and one of their men in the hold caught them before they fell. 

crazy bunch. i guess maybe it does say something about the theory that troopers tend to take after their men. 

secura, skywalker and tano are fuck-knows-where now, since their ship accidentally jumped to hyperspace. we’re pretty sure they haven’t bitten it, though. what do you think the chances are we’ll be sent to pick ‘em up? 

this one’s gonna be a pretty short message. i gotta get into bacta. i, eh - maybe got shot? but like. only a little. glancing blaster bolt to the top of my left shoulder. should be fine after a bit of a dip. 

say hi to volya and ama and so on for me. 

* * *

 **[ HOLO-MESSAGE ]:** we’re headed kamino-bound. seppies are planning on invading, according to intel we’ve got. i’ve gotta keep about half my men under wraps - they’re nervous about heading back. might use the occasion to snag a few new ones, though. or a couple cadets, in the confusion. we’ve still managed a steady stream of “deaths”, and i’m almost absolutely certain windu knows. 

he’s transferred about six, seven more men to me, so i don’t think he’s against it, though. 

wish us luck with the longnecks. see you on the other side. 

* * *

 **[ HOLO-MESSAGE ]:** it’s been awhile since i’ve left one of these, huh? i mean, i know part of it is that we’ve been able to actually talk, or keep in touch via texting and so on. anyway, we think things are … actually wrapping up. we’re just finishing cleaning up at koru neimoidia. pretty nasty, what we’ve left of it, but we  _won._

seppie leaders beat a retreat, though, so it’s a little bit hollow - but that’s one of many planets we’ve won back. rang says he thinks the war might end soon. it’s a big subject of discussion with the men - what’s going to happen to them once it  _does._

at least mine have some guarantee, after all this. 

gotta go help clean-up. i’ll bring you back a battle droid head as a souvenir, huh? 

* * *

 **[ HOLO-MESSAGE ]:** i’m sure you might’ve heard before me, even, but - grievous is dead. so’s dooku, though that was a bit ago. 

the war’s just about over, bri. we’re gonna be coming home once we wrap up helping the natives here. it’s … a relief and also a little terrifying, you know? what’s going to happen now? how do we recover from all of this? how are people going to think of the jedi, after everything that’s happened? 

it’ll just be good to see you again. haven’t gotten the chance to since tython - you were out when we got to swing by triple-zero for leave. missed seeing you. didn’t risk checking out the archives, i think nu’s still got it out for me. my ears still haven’t recovered from youngling days. 

it’s tip’s birthday soon, too! maybe we’ll be back on coruscant, and you can celebrate with me and some of the troopers. 

obviously they’re not old enough to become a knight yet, but i think i’ve done a better job with teaching them than i ever thought i might. i was originally thinking of questioning the decision or passing them on to a master after the war ended, but i really think i can - 

hang on, something’s up. chyth, what’s the matter?

chyth?

* * *

**[ NO MORE MESSAGES RECORDED. ]**


	10. Chapter 10

she lay down in the underbrush, her heart moving at a speed that would make a correllian pilot jealous, hearing the faint sound of crashing coming towards her as the stormtroopers on her tail sweep the area. she closes her eyes briefly, painfully. moving or trying to run from her hiding spot now means she’ll be seen. all she can do is wait for the burning in her lungs to fade and  _hope._

when she opens her eyes again, she sees white plating, and immediately shuts them again, waiting for the shot, or for them to drag her to her feet, or the familiar buzz of a stun blast. 

nothing like that came. she could still hear the stormtroopers coming closer, but they weren’t on top of her, not yet. then what –– ? 

she risked turning her head slightly, facing the direction of the oncoming troops, and bites down on her lip hard enough that she has to lick beads of blood off her chapped skin, trying not to gasp. there’s white armor, like she thought she had seen. but  _older._ clone wars-era. 

it’s not the clean white of the empire, either. it looked like it had seen years of combat. she followed the suit of armor up to where the head should be, but - she swallowed, bile rising in her throat as she realized there wasn’t one. 

‘ don’t worry. ‘ 

she just manages to hold back a scream, seeing where the voice came from. 

propped casually on his hip, as if he were carrying around his helmet any one of the times he took it off, is the man’s head, with the now-infamous face of jango fett. he looked young, with a shaved head, and tattoos curling in maroon ink under his eyes. the place where his neck just … stopped, abruptly, was bloodless, clean. 

‘ they’re not going to find you, ‘ he says, and she wonders if this is what going into shock is like. only daring to move a little, she digs her nails into the meat of her hand, rather than pinch herself. it’s … well, she can rule out dreams or spice. she’s not sure whether that’s comforting, though. ‘ just stay breathing, shiny, ‘ the man - clone? tells her, turning so his back is facing her. 

sure enough, the stormtroopers crash through the trees a few seconds later, and the man walks up to them. they pause as they run up to him - it doesn’t seem like they see him, but there he stands, right in the middle of them. there’s warbled talking between them, turned tinny by their helmets, and then they’re back off the way they came. 

‘ go, ‘ a new voice says, and she looks up, almost giving herself whiplash. 

in the tree above her, there’s a second figure, the sunlight filtering right through him. he grins, hopping down to land by the other man, who’s returning. ‘ go, ‘ he repeats, crouching down to her level a bit. 

she can see, through his chest, about seven or eight glowing holes. blaster bolts, some part of her brain fills in, but he’s just still grinning. ‘ they’re not gonna catch up with you. not today, ‘ he says cheerfully, and offers her a hand up. 

obviously, it isn’t one she can take. 

but her legs, which had been shaking before, suddenly have the strength behind them to stand back up, and the frantic burn in her lungs calms, her breathing slowing as she pushes herself to her feet. 

‘ thank you, ‘ she states, bowing her head, albeit a little uneasily. her aunt had told her it was always important to respect the dead, after all. she’s not sure this is what she had meant, but it’s not like she had much knowledge to go off otherwise. ghosts were something you talked about with your creche-mates when you were supposed to be sleeping, not … real. 

she began trekking in the direction of the base, turning to give a leaving look to the … ghosts, but the clearing was empty. 


End file.
